


Share the Secrets of my Soul

by deardracula



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deardracula/pseuds/deardracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't meant for it to happen, and he felt so worthless, useless and completely out of place in his own skin ever since that feeling had crept up on him one night and hit him like a trip hammer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share the Secrets of my Soul

**Author's Note:**

> title courtesy of Janis Joplin

Sam was running. Running from his father, running from himself, running from Dean. He wasn't really sure which one it was anymore though, because everything was such shit and it was all his fault. He had fucked up a lot in his short life, but he had always seemed to figure out a way to make it better, or at least mend it until it was halfway manageable. But this. This was something that could never be undone. He hadn't meant for it to happen, and he felt so worthless, useless and completely out of place in his own skin ever since that feeling had crept up on him one night and hit him like a trip hammer. When that was exactly he didn't know but now he might at well change his name to Benedict Arnold and throw himself in a lake with a cinder block tied around his foot.

But he couldn't, so he ran. The only thing he ever seemed to be good at.

His lungs were struggling in their cage and his sides were splitting at the seams, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop until his head was clear and things fell back into place. Or he died of exhaustion.

  
He shirt was tacky with the summer balm, sweat soaking through the fabric at the small of his back as the steady pounding of the wind he was swimming through pushed his shirt taught against his bony chest. He hoped that he had run far enough to avoid the chance of Dean following him, but there were hurried footfalls crunching in the loose gravel behind him and his heart fell into his gut.

  
His feet tangled around themselves – having grown so much over the past few months, they were hard to manage – and he tripped, knees skidding across the stones. The skin of his knees split and tore over the gray rock and he hissed, his blood spilling out over the road and down his skinny shins, black and sticky in the watery light. A cry caught in his throat, his eyes itching threateningly as he tried to stop the bleeding with shaking fingers.

  
He was hesitant to get to his feet, the dull burn of the cuts made it hard to imagine running any further. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to seem like such a child, especially with Dean closing in along with the last shred of self-respect he had left, but it ripped through his chest on it's own accord and he started heaving, sobbing so violently he could feel a headache blooming behind his eyes. He felt so broken sitting in a ditch between two fields of corn, crying like he had waited his entire life to be huddled there, bleeding and alone before he ever allowed tears to cut down his face. He wished he was in control of his thoughts and his breathing and the salt clinging to his cheeks but he wasn't and it was like there were strings attached to his wrists he wasn't able to cut.

  
He was hyperventilating miserably, fighting for the air his lungs rejected as his guts twisted into tight knots. Blood was still flowing freely past the rock and dirt wedged under his lacerated flesh when he decided to pull himself to his feet.

  
His name was being shouted from somewhere behind him, so he ran faster, further, until his was blind from the strain. It would only be a matter of time before his brother caught him. He always did. But he pushed himself harder, his arms pumping and his chest heaving while the fields around him melted away from corn to soy.

  
He took a sharp left, praying to anything that would listen that his black shirt was enough cover in the endless expanse of darkness that hung over the field. Stretching out in front of him was acres and acres of premature growth, his heavy footfalls leaving a tell-tail trail behind him. He was closing in on the forest that hung like a frame around an unknown farmer's livelihood, and he thought that would be it. He would be free. Each trunk of the cluster of trees was coming into focus and the road was so far behind him now that he wouldn't have been able to see it in the pale light that swept over the scenery like watercolors even if he had the nerve to look.

  
Something like a rampaging bear hit him square in the back and air left his lungs while his face hit the earth, smearing rich black soil across the right half of his face. Dean was growling at him, yelling until his voice broke as he flipped him over, plants folding around them as Sam fought to get away. Dean pinned him to the ground, his arms out by his sides where Dean held them while he sat heavily on his chest.

  
He didn't know he was still crying until a shuddered breath ripped through him, a broken sob from a broken, jagged shard of the boy he had been twenty-fours hours prior. “I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry.” He pulled at the restraining fists locked around his wrists, his hair falling away from his face, caked with sweat and dirt.

“Stop it, Sam just-” He gritted his teeth, locking his knees tighter around Sam's frame. “Hold still, damn it.” The moister falling freely from Sam's eyes rolled down his face sideways, spilling behind his ears and into his hair.

“Just let me go. Just let me leave.”

“Stop- stop crying Sam, you're being hysterical.” His voice was hard, so angry and tired that it sent a pang of regret echoing through Sam's chest as Dean's fingers flexed around his bones. He was still breathing in short, desperate bursts, his head pounding from the strain.

They looked at each other for a long time, the muscles in Dean's jaw jumping violently as Sam tried to avoid the flecks of light that caught in his eyes. “Sit up.” Sam shook his head like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He didn't want to have the conversation he knew Dean was headed towards. He wanted to ignore it, let it eat away at him for the rest of his days like normal people did.

  
Dean's spine fell slack as Sam stopped trying to free himself. He climbed off, sitting in front of him and pulling him up by the front of his shirt. “Come on. Calm down.” He could feel Dean watching him and he wished he would disappear, melt right into the earth and stay that way until the sun burned out. Dean sighed, his chest collapsing as he scrubbed a hand over his face, painting over his freckles with top soil.

  
Sam tried to run again while his eyes were closed, but Dean was faster, arms locking around him knees so he jerked forward and hit the ground again. “Stop it Sam.” He punched him lightly between his shoulder blades. “Just... stop it. For one second so I can think.”

“Let me go.” He spat through his teeth, dust clinging to his damp cheeks.

“No. If you would just calm down, then maybe we could talk about this.”

“I don't want to talk about it. I want to be left alone.” He could hear himself, hear how stupid he sounded, but he couldn't make himself stop.

“Come here, you're bleeding.”

“I'm fine.” He answered too quickly as Dean pulled at him, forcing him to sit on his ass like a normal fucking human being. Sam pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly. He didn't want Dean to see his scrapped knees or his stupid, puffy face because it made him fell like such a kid. Dumb and inadequate and suddenly so much lesser in his brother's eyes. But Dean was pulling his arms away, trying to get a better look even though Sam was fighting him, rocking forward into his chest while he refused to let go of his knees.

“Why do you have to be so difficult.” His tone softened and his brow relax as he reached up with his sleeve pulled over his hand to try and clean Sam's face the best he could with nothing more than the worn cotton.

  
Sam's breathing had returned to normal but his fists were clenched in tight fists by his sides. “Stop.” He jerked his head away. He kept his eyes shut tight because the sun had risen enough for him to make out ever line that was folded into Dean's young face and he didn't want to look into those eyes, the only pair he had even really known, and see disgust or hatred boiling behind them. He would die if he did. It would kill him. “Why wont you just leave me alone.”

“Because Sam. Because you're my little brother and-” He shook his head, his hands falling into his lap idly. His smile cut crookedly into his face as he looked up at him, eyes soft while his fingers found their place in the curve of Sam's neck. He pulled him forward, their noses brushing as Sam inhaled sharply at the feeling of Dean's mouth, like a whisper against his. “You didn't give me a chance to kiss you back.”


End file.
